Aureus
by Jacinda
Summary: It was far too late for either of us; there wasn't a move that I could make to save myself. " NS
1. Grissom's POV: Somewhere in the desert

I wasn't paying attention. My head was pounding. I was reaching to turn down the volume of the radio. I wasn't watching the road; I know the other driver wasn't either. The semi tuck blindly pulled out on to the two lane highway. It was far too late for either of us; there wasn't a move that I could make to save myself. I don't know if I screamed; I'm not really sure what I did. I think I braced myself on the steering wheel; I braced myself in preparation for tons of force that would collide with my SUV. I think I prayed that this would go quickly, that it wouldn't be as bad as I was imagining.

* * *

"Gil, I need you to come out to an accident scene. It's a bad one," Brass said as he stood in the doorway of my office.

"Any DBs?" I asked as I began to gather assignments for the team. We were waiting for Sara. Sara had been out in the desert; she was working on a skeleton found amongst the mountains and hills. She called hours earlier saying that she was running right on schedule. I had asked the team to wait for her.

"Not yet, but Gil, it was Sara's Tahoe that was hit," Brass said softly. I needed to strain to hear him. I could feel my stomach drop to my knees. For a moment, I wondered what I should do. I had no idea what to say to Brass, let alone the people that formed a family around this lab.

"She's a lucky girl. She held on for so long, while the firefighters cut open her car to free her. Gil, she's at Desert Palms. Sara needed to be airlifted there. I didn't want to tell you this on the phone; I didn't want to be the one to tell you," Brass rambled. I sat dumbfounded trying to comprehend what he was saying.

"What happened?" I asked.

"The truck driver said that his brakes failed; I think he's drunk. I'll need one of your CSIs to go draw the blood and process it," Brass said, "Gil, Sara wasn't doing good when the helicopter left. I'm really sorry."

I felt sick. It sickened me that this would become our case. It sickened me that Sara offered to take the case this afternoon. It wasn't even her day to be on-call. It was my turn, but I was spending the afternoon with my mother. I could barely breathe. I think Brass said something about it being a tragedy. I knew that he must be feeling something intense to express any emotion; I knew that I felt like my heart had stopped.

I didn't want to tell them. I didn't want to be the person to tell them that Sara was in the hospital . . . that we needed to investigate the scene. They were a family. They spent nearly all their time together. We went out to breakfast in the morning. I knew them more intimately than I knew anyone else. I didn't want to be the one.

"Gil, I'll go tell them. They are all waiting for assignment. You should take a few minutes," Brass said as he vacated the doorway.

"Thank you," I replied. I tried to suppress my emotions. I tried to prepare myself to see the accident scene. I tried to prepare myself to go draw the blood of a man that might have killed Sara. It should have been me.


	2. Nick's POV: Golden

He treats this as if it is any other case. I'm looking for any opportunity to rush out of the conference room and to the hospital where I should be. There were so many secrets that my coworkers didn't know about. There were so many reasons why I shouldn't have to be the one to help Warrick tear apart a semi, while Sara was in the hospital.

"Nicky, Warrick, be thorough. Let me know if you are going to need a bigger workspace," Grissom said as he stood up from his chair. I wanted so badly to scream at him that I shouldn't be here; that I needed to go. I couldn't; I wasn't sure if this was one of those times when it is okay to break a promise.

"_You have to promise me . . . this needs to stay quiet for a little while. Only until we prove that we can maintain a professional working relationship," Sara whispered softly. The afternoon sun made her skin hot against my hand. She self-consciously covered her body from the rest of the world. I was thankful that she shared her body with me; I was thankful that she agreed to have me._

"_I promise, Sara; I promise," I whispered as I watched her begin to fall asleep. Her hair was so soft against my skin. I wasn't sure if I could keep this a secret; I was surprised that we had managed to keep this a secret for as long as we had. I didn't care; she was here . . . that was all that mattered._

I stared at my ring finger. I hadn't been careful the other day. We had gone to play volleyball at an outdoor complex. I had forgotten to take my wedding band off. I hadn't noticed that it was still on until I got to work. I quickly stashed it in my wallet . . . right next to the picture of us at our impromptu wedding. I never pictured Sara as a traditional girl; our wedding was right on with my perception. Not everyone could get married in the mountains by a yoga instructor that moonlighted as a justice of the peace. Not everyone could be as natural and untouched as Sara. There was something magical about the mountains and the two mile hike from the main road. It was a journey; it was a journey that Sara invited me to be a part of. I stared at the faint tan line; my wedding band was at home. Sara picked out a simple gold band . . . aureus. She had the word engraved inside the band. When I asked why, she said our life together would be golden.

"Nicky, are you okay?" Grissom asked. I hadn't noticed that everyone else had left the room. I was too lost in my thoughts; thoughts of a much happier time.

"Grissom, I need to leave. I just can't be here," I said as I stood up; my words were incoherent. My thoughts became more and more frantic as I began to wonder what her condition was. I could feel the anxiety rising in my stomach; it was quickly taking over my thoughts.

"Warrick needs your help in the body shop," Grissom said.

"I know, but I need to be with my wife," I replied as I walked quickly to the locker room. I stared at my lock; for the life of me I couldn't think of the combination. I just wanted to lock up my gun and my vest. I wouldn't need those.

"Nicky, your wife?" Grissom asked as he stood in the doorway.

"I need to go see Sara," I replied. I gave up on the locker and began to dial Brass' cell phone number.

"She's your wife?" Grissom asked again.

"She's my wife," I replied as I waited for Brass to pick up his cell phone. I just wanted to know where she was. Brass hadn't told us where Sara was.

"Since when?" Grissom asked.

"Shut up. I need to find out where she is," I yelled at Grissom as Brass answered his phone. Grissom stood still; I don't think he had any idea as to what to say to me. He didn't know what it was like to be married; he didn't know what it was like to be wondering if everything in your life would suddenly fall short of golden.

"Jim, what hospital did they take Sara to?" I asked. Brass was already asking if everything was okay.

"Desert Palm. Stokes, are you okay?" Brass asked. I could hear a cacophony of noise in the background.

"I just need to go see her," I replied.

"Stokes, I'll be at Desert Palms soon," Brass replied. I think he knew. Sara and I updated our human resource paperwork last week. She changed her last name; we both updated our emergency contacts. He must have pulled the paperwork. Brass sounded so sympathetic. I didn't want his sympathy; I just wanted someone to tell me that she was okay.

"Let me drive you," Grissom replied.

The drive was agonizing. I didn't remember most of it. I called her brother. James had been one of our witnesses at the mountain top service. James said that he would be on the next flight to Vegas. He was a starving artist in New York; it would be hours before he got here. I called my sister, Jacquelyn. Jacqui said that she would call mom and dad; she was our other witness. Jacqui was only two years older than me; she was the sibling that I was the closest to. I didn't know who else to call. No one besides Sara was important right now.

Grissom followed me to the information desk in the emergency room. He stood next to me when I was asking where my wife was. Sara 'Sidle' was still in the operating room. I asked the nurse to let me update her paperwork; Sara hadn't changed her name on her driver's license yet. There hadn't been a good reason to. You never think that this is going to happen.

"Would you like me to wait with you?" Grissom asked carefully. I think I nodded. I just didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be alone if Sara was . . . I willed myself not to think of that. I kept telling myself that Sara was probably bossing some nurse around; she was probably complaining about how uncomfortable the hospital bed was. I tried to tell myself that it couldn't possibly be as bad as Jim had described it.

"Mr. Stokes, I'm Dr. Williams. I took care of Sara when she was in the emergency room," the tall, muscular man said as he sat down in a chair next to me. He straightened his meticulous white coat. His face showed little expression; I couldn't gauge the seriousness of the situation based only on some crow's feet and a persistent wrinkle in his forehead.

"Mr. Stokes, Sara came in with a large amount of abdominal trauma. We need to do several transfusions to stabilize her before she went to the operating room. The surgeons are going to need to remove her spleen, repair a laceration on her liver, and repair a bowel perforation. Besides a collapsed lung, her chest was in relatively good condition," the doctor said. He stopped to take a deep breath. I waited anxiously for him to finish his story. I could hear Grissom sigh with relief.

"She did have lacerations to her face and scalp, but there was no detectable brain damage. That's something we are going to watch for during the next few days," the doctor said; he paused again, "I am concerned about the injury to her shoulder. Her left shoulder dislocated at some point. When she got to the emergency room, it was cool to the touch and flaccid. I am concerned about some nerve and tissue damage. Depending on the duration of ischemia, Sara might not recover function in her arm. Mr. Stokes, do you have any questions for me?"

Her arm. Without function of her arm, she would not be a CSI. Her job was such a large part of her life. If the accident didn't kill her, the loss of a functional arm just might.

"Can I go see her?" I asked numbly.

"I'll have a nurse take you to the surgical waiting area. They can give you some updates there," the doctor said as he walked away. Compared to what Jim described, this seemed much less severe than the twisted bloody mess he encountered on the rural highway. I was thankful, but I was terrified of the possibility of Sara having a head injury. It was her mind that made her so amazing. I always had to remind her that she was so much more than beautiful; Sara was smart and witty. She was loyal and honest. I didn't know what I would do if I lost that part of her.

"Please let everything be golden," I whispered under my breath.


	3. Brass's POV: Children

"Stokes, is Sara still in surgery?" I asked as I sat next to Nick. His face was pale. He was staring at the ground. He barely moved when I spoke to him. It lead me to believe that he had no desire to hear me.

"She's still in surgery, Jim. Are you going to be here for a while?" Grissom asked me. He was sitting next to Nick. It was a kind of fatherly presence. His hand was on Nick's shoulder. I gave the man credit; he did try to be a comfort. He was trying so hard despite the fact that we all knew that he loved Sara. Grissom didn't need to say it; it was the way that he interacted with Sara.

"Yeh, you should go. The driver is being a prick. You might be able to handle his barbs better than I," I replied. I was really sick of listening to the guy tell me about how he hadn't gone to any bars or how he didn't fudge the amount of sleep in his time book. The guy shut down at every pass; I just wanted to know what happened. His story didn't seem to add up; no skid marks at the scene. I tried to explain that Sara was my colleague, but I got caught up in my anger. I was better at doing the yelling; that's what made my daughter run from me so many years ago.

"Stay with him . . . someone will be here later. Let me know when she's out of surgery," Gil said as he stood up. He knew that Nick wasn't ready to start talking yet; that was okay. Nick would have a myriad people to listen when he was ready. I watched Grissom walk down the hall.

"Nick, you could have told us that you and Sara got married," I said. I tried to keep myself from getting confrontational. In the last few hours, I realized that I might have wanted to go to that wedding. I thought of them as kids. I always saw them as incredibly bright kids. I guess that's what happens when you realize how much you have aged. They were both charismatic. They both had grown up so much since coming to Vegas. I was proud of them. I was proud of their work. I would have liked to see them marry. It would have been like watching Ellie marry, but I knew that that wasn't about to happen.

"You could have told us that you were dating," I replied, "I can't believe it took you two so damn long to figure things out."

"Thanks, Jim. You are nothing if not inspiring," Nick grumbled.

"She's tough as nails. You know that," I said, "She fought like hell to stay awake when they were cutting her out of the car. She isn't going to die on that table."

"I know. I just don't want to have to wait anymore. I just want to see her," Nick replied. He seemed to perk up a little bit. I offered him coffee. He declined. He wanted to wait. Nick said that I could wait with him. We sat silently for what felt like hours; in reality, it might have been less than an hour.

"I need someone to pick up Sara's brother from the airport in three hours. I don't know who to call," Nick said softly.

"I'm sure that Greg wouldn't mind helping out. You just let me know what you need," I replied. Nick looked so confused. I couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through his head. My marriage was loveless; we got married because she was pregnant with Ellie. She thought Ellie was mine; she pulled me into a loveless hell. I couldn't imagine what it would have been like had I loved her. I did what I needed to.

"Was it really bad?" Nick asked. I couldn't imagine wanting to know about the scene. I was called in by accident. The officers on the scene had just assumed that whoever was in the SUV was dead. When I got there, I couldn't believe that anyone could possibly survive that. I nearly fell over. I needed to go sit down; it was so hard to wait for Sara to be pulled from the wreckage. It was harder to hear her screams. The paramedics had me talk to her. She kept asking for Nick. She said that she wished she would have stayed home this afternoon. When my eyes were closed, I could still hear the screaming. It chilled me to the core.

"It wasn't good. She's very, very lucky, Nicky," I said. I wondered if I should tell him that Sara was asking for him. I didn't know if that would be a comfort right now. A man prides himself on his ability to be there for his family; there was no way that Nicky could have been there for Sara. I'm glad he wasn't there; I'm glad he wasn't in the SUV with Sara. I know that he was probably wishing that it was him.

"You've never called me Nicky before," he pointed out. He showed no emotion in his communication; his voice scared me. It would have been easier to watch him scream or throw punches; it was hard to only imagine what he was thinking about.

I remember the first time that I met Nicky. He was so young; maybe twenty-seven years old. He was a tenacious, young cop turned scientist. When I asked why he gave up being a cop, Nick told me that he liked science. I had a hard time believing it, but it didn't take me long to figure out exactly how brilliant he was.

I remember Sara's first day. She was so sassy. I nearly had it out with her and Catherine when they decided to play 'bling-bling' with the guy that killed Holly. I had never been so mad at two people; they recklessly put their lives in danger to bring Holly's murderer to justice. I saw how cases affected Sara; I saw her cry a number of times. She always swore me to secrecy. I told her that I wouldn't tell. I remember watching her and Nicky work together. I wanted to slap Nick over the head and tell him to give up on the stupid girls in Vegas; what he needed was right in front of him. I really would have wanted to be at that wedding.

I stared at my watch. I wondered how long the surgery would take. I had been off the clock for hours. It just felt right to be here; it felt right to make sure that Nick was okay. I prayed for the first time in ages. I prayed that everything would work out. I didn't want to imagine how this would change the lab if it didn't.


	4. Greg's POV: Little Things

He's sitting next to her. I'm not sure if he's even bothered to move after Sara got out of surgery. Jim is sitting in the corner snoring. If Nick hears him, he doesn't say anything. Nick's gaze is so far beyond the wall he has been staring at for the last few minutes.

I tried to prepare myself to see Sara like this. It's nothing like in the movies or on television. Her skin is really pale; it's a white that is impossible to describe. The tubes are so much more invasive than I imagined. There was a ventilator, multiple intravenous lines, and other plastic invading Sara's body. Her brother says something to me, but I only hear the noise. I'm so shocked by the condition of her body. It's hard to think about anything else.

I gently tapped on the window. I wasn't sure if Nick wanted me in there; this was such a personal time. It was time that he needed to spend with his family. For as much as I wanted to be there, I wasn't sure if this would be over stepping my boundaries. I always had a crush on Sara; I always called it just a crush because I knew Sara wouldn't return my feelings. I would never be anything more than something of a little brother to her. It's okay though; I would take her friendship over nothing.

Nick looked up. He waved us in to her room. The look on his face was so lost. It was a raw despair.

"James . . . hey," Nick said as James surveyed his sister's ravaged body.

"She's going to be okay?" James asked with disbelief. It was the same thing that I was thinking. I was hoping that it looked much worse than it actually was.

"The doctor said that he'll know more when some of the swelling goes down. Sara is going to have her brain activity measured in a few hours . . . when the anesthesia begins to wear off," Nick said.

"Wow . . . do you mind if I have some time alone with Sara and the guy sleeping in the corner?" James asked. He tried to smile; James tried to crack jokes the entire drive from the airport. He was so much like Sara when she was nervous. James and Sara had so many of the same features; huge brown eyes, a slight gap between their front teeth. They had nearly the same personality; it was easy to feel comfortable around them.

"Jim Brass is the detective working her case . . . he's a good friend. He didn't want to leave until Sara wakes up," Nick said.

"Oh, I'm sure Sara appreciates that. I promise I won't hog her for too long," James replied. I followed Nick out into the hallway.

"How are you doing?" I ineptly asked. I already knew the answer. He wasn't doing well; his wife of only three months was involved in a car accident that could have easily been fatal.

"Not well . . . Greg . . . I'm sorry . . . I don't even know what to say," Nick said as he watched James talk to Sara through a small window.

"It's okay . . . you really don't need to apologize. I'm just glad that she made it this far," I replied.

"Thanks for picking James up at the airport," Nick replied.

"I'm picking your sister up in a few hours. She called the crime lab when she couldn't get you on your cell. Grissom asked me to pick Jacqui up," I said. I had actually spent the greater part of my lunch break trying set up some kind of lodging for his sister, his mother, and Sara's brother. I figured it was the little things that would make his life easier right now. I knew Grissom wasn't thinking about those little things right now; I knew that Sara's family wasn't thinking about that stuff either. I remember those things made the passing of my grandmother a little easier. A friend of the family made sure that there was someone there to pick me up at the airport; it was nice to not have to worry about having my basic needs met . . . it gave me more time to concentrate on the important things.

"Oh . . . Jacqui . . . or Ellen . . . or Gayle . . . which one?" Nick asked; his brow furrowed a little bit. He asked it so seriously, but I wanted to laugh. It was hard to remember that he was from such a large family; I don't think anyone other than Sara had met any of his family. I wasn't prepared to be presented with so many options.

"Jacqui . . . your mom's flight is coming in later this evening," I replied.

"I should go home to get the townhouse ready . . . it's a mess. Sara and I have been working so much lately," Nick tried to explain.

"I already reserved rooms at the Palms for them . . . it's taken care of, Nick," I replied.

"Thanks, man . . . you know . . . Sara really appreciates this . . . I really appreciate this," Nick stammered.

"Hey . . . don't worry about it . . . you know what they say about family," I replied.

"Yeh . . . we're lucky . . . we're luck to have so many people. Could you go back to my house? My wedding band in on the dress drawer . . . I'm not sure where Sara hides hers, but could you find them?" Nick asked.

"Yeh . . . do you need anything else from home?" I asked. I was glad that he was talking . . . Grissom said that there was Nick's ability to be so stoic was unnatural. Grissom said that he had never seen Nick shut down; Nick had always been so vocal about his disappointment, frustration, and anger. I knew that I would have preferred to see Nick yell rather than hold it all in.

"I don't know," Nick replied.

"Well, if you think of anything," I replied as I accepted his key chain. There were easily thirty keys on chain . . . I was sure that I would be entertained up until I got back on shift.

"Thanks," Nick replied.

"I bet Sara made a beautiful bride," I replied.

"She was wearing hiking boots," Nick said.

"I'm sure they looked lovely," I said laughing.

"She did look good . . . we hiked up into the mountains. It was a good day," Nick replied. His face softened a little bit.

"That sounds like Sara . . . Nick, she's going to be okay. You guys are going to be okay . . . you'll go home . . . I'm sure Sara will take a few weeks off to boss you around while recuperating, but it will work out," I said.

"How do you know?" Nick asked.

"You two always reminded me of my grandparents . . . just not as old . . . and not as eccentric. They had a good life together . . . over fifty years. You and Sara . . . you'll have that," I replied as I began to walk down the hallway.

"Thanks, Greg," Nick said. I could see the tears fall down his cheek. I was happy that it wasn't me. I hoped Sara would wake up soon . . . she needed to wake up soon. I hated to watch him suffer; I hated to watch Sara suffered. They both had suffered so much over three years. I hoped that they could seek some solace in each other.

I couldn't believe that the CSIs hadn't noticed the change in Nick and Sara. I knew something was up. The way they lingered together; the way they moved together. It was beautiful to watch. I saw the tan line on Nick's finger. I wasn't about to ask; if they wanted us to know, they would tell us. I was just happy they finally found each other.


	5. Catherine's POV: Changes

Catherine's POV:

"Gris, do you see what's missing?" I asked. The poor man seemed distracted this evening. I knew why; it wasn't a secret that was well kept. I could see his normally clear, concentrated mind beginning to stray. I knew he was thinking about her; I knew that he was thinking about Nicky. I was thinking about Nicky, but I knew I needed to stay focused. I knew that this would be the only way that I could help Sara and Nick.

"Grissom," I said again trying to capture his attention, "There's no tread marks. Neither Sara or the truck tried to stop."

"That would corroborate the story about the breaks not working," Grissom said as we combed the scene again. We had walked down the road several times; we walked silently. There were no words that needed to be said right now. There were no words that could possibly make this situation better. There were a million words that could make this situation worse.

"I think we have all that we need. Shift is almost over . . . did you want me to file the report, so you can go back to the hospital?" I asked.

"No, I want to go file the report," Grissom replied. I knew that seeing Sara so mangled bothered him; Grissom had that look in his eyes. It was the look that he had when he saw the dead girl that looked like Sara. I didn't want him to burn out the way he did last time. He worked that scene until there was nothing left to work. He worked like it was Sara back at the morgue. I knew it was that moment that he realized just how much he loved Sara. This time . . . Grissom was far too late.

"Gil, I'm going to go check on Nicky. Are you going to stop by?" I asked. I wanted to be there for Nicky. I had already seen him at his worst after Kristy was murdered; I was afraid of what he would look like this time. I remembered the way he collapsed upon me after I told him that we found Jack . . . Jack had killed Kristy. He fell into my arms like a child; I remember telling him that things would only get better from here on. He had grown up; he had become so careful with his heart. I assumed that was for the better; I never thought he would love Sara. I never thought that he could keep a secret like that. I wish that they didn't think they needed to keep a secret like that.

"Could you call me when she's awake? I don't think I can see her with all the tubes; I don't think that I could see her family. It would be awkward," Grissom rambled. I let my fingers touch his arm. He looked up at me; he looked truly afraid. I wasn't sure if he was more afraid of seeing Sara cling to life or if it was that he was afraid to confront the fact that Sara could never be his.

"I'll call, Gil. Drive safe," I replied as I walked away. I was thankful to be alone with my thoughts. I spent hours trying to keep it together. I knew that it was Grissom's weekend to be on call. I knew that it could have been him. I knew that that thought was lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. It's funny how something intended to be so benign could have such horrible consequences.

The walk upstairs to the surgical waiting area seemed to take forever. I held my breath the entire time. I knew that Sara was out of surgery. Greg had called me to let me know. I don't know why he called me; Sara and I weren't close. I wouldn't even call us friends. I respected Sara as a coworker, but our relationship was often left at the crime lab door. I wished I would have done something to change that.

"Catherine, I got done early . . . I thought it might be a good idea . . . you know," Warrick said as I walked over to where he was sitting alone.

"Yeh, I know. It was a good idea. Any news?" I asked as I sat down next to him.

"Coma," Warrick replied. That's all he really needed to say. I had worked with Nick long enough to be able to gauge how he was going to react to that; I had known Grissom long enough to know that this news might break him. I didn't really feel anything at the moment; I think as a mother I often took care of others before I took care of myself. Grissom had always joked that I was the 'mother-figure' at the crime lab. I knew I was the one that could stay composed during times of crisis; I know that I was always thought of as the peace-maker when it came to our dealings with the day shift. There would be time to feel later; I would go home and stand under the hot shower. I would cry then, but right now, I needed to keep it together for the sake of everyone else.

"Is Nick . . .," I began.

"Not doing to well. I talked him into taking the valium the doctor offered him. He's sleeping in the chair next to Sara's bed. Brass is asleep in the corner. Sara's brother went for coffee . . . Greg is picking up Nick's sister from the airport. I'm just right here," Warrick replied.

"Has anyone called Grissom?" I asked. I knew that they hadn't. I knew that they were waiting for me to.

"No, I wouldn't know what to say," Warrick replied. He was always in control of his emotions. His exterior was always so composed; it made me wonder what he did with all the emotions. I hoped that he didn't bottle them up like Grissom; I hoped he didn't drown them in alcohol like Sara and Brass. I hoped that he had some outlet, even if it was only standing under the shower and crying.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"You know . . . I always thought that I was supposed to dislike Sara. Grissom essentially hired her to investigate me, but I really like her. She wasn't on call this weekend; I don't know why, but it makes me angry," Warrick rambled. I understood, but I wasn't sure if I would trade the life of another CSI for that of Sara's. I just wished that it never happened; that maybe Sara would have left the scene ten minutes later or the truck driver could have gotten a flat tire. Grissom or Sara; I know Grissom wished that it was him.

"We can't change that. I wish we could," I replied.

"There's a lot that needed to change in the lab, but this is going to force the change . . . for better or for worse," Warrick replied. A lot was going to change in the lab. Warrick couldn't possibly be more right. Sara and Nick and Grissom; I was afraid of the triangle that might develop. I was afraid of what that might do to the young couple and my dear friend. Fear changes people; I wondered how the people around me would change.


	6. Nick's POV: Recollections

Nick's POV:

My mother, sister, and Sara's brother left to go get something to eat; they invited me along, but I was afraid to move from her side. About five hours ago, I stopped hearing the predictable, cacophonous beeping of the machines. About three hours ago, I realized that I had no idea what time it was. Time didn't matter anymore; I just wanted to be here. I just wanted to be with Sara; that's all I really wanted. I spent years wanting to be with her; I just never expected that I would be waiting in a medical purgatory for Sara to come or go.

The doctors keep saying that the EEG was encouraging; there has been talk of disconnecting the ventilator. There has been talk of Sara waking up very soon. The surgeon said it would be soon; the nurses said that these things take time. They keep telling me that sleep is the body's best way of beginning to heal itself. Sara is working very hard to heal herself.

People come and go. Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick have sat next to me. Greg and Brass seemed to have persisted. Brass set up a make sift office at the nurses' station; Greg . . . he just refuses to go. He's been sleeping in the waiting room for a long time. He's been taking care of my family. Greg told me that there is nothing better than the gift of family. Greg was right; my coworkers had become my family. They were always there when I needed them; I wished that Sara felt the same, but I knew her experience with our coworkers was so much different than my own. I think Greg was the only one, besides me, that had ever been to her apartment. Sara invested a lot time into teaching Greg about evidence collection and analysis. She spent weeks tutoring him; Sara amassed an amazing number of textbooks.

She didn't want to go this afternoon, but Sara relented when Grissom said that he was spending time with his mother. We were still in bed. It was rare that we ever just spent a day in bed. We watched the news and a home decorating show. Sara and I had been talking about buying a house; we had talked about getting a dog. It was a perfect afternoon. I loved the time that I had alone with Sara; those were often the best moments of the day.

We normally went running in the early afternoon. She was determined to improve her mile time. Whatever she wanted to do, she threw everything she had into achieving her goals. I admired her focus and determination. I did everything I could for Sara; I tried to be there to provide the support that she so desperately needed. I knew there wasn't anyone else that would be there to do that for Sara.

Our first real date was more of an accident than anything else. The rape victim that was murdered in her own driveway, I knew that Sara was assigned to that case. Grissom should have never assigned her to that case; it was way too personal for Sara. When I came back to the lab, Sara was in her Tahoe. She was crying. I had never seen anyone cry like that. I asked if she was okay; Sara said that she wasn't okay. I took her out for breakfast; she was a mess. I drove her home; I promised to pick her up before shift. Sara asked me in; I made coffee while Sara showered. We fell asleep watching a documentary about butterflies. I borrowed a shirt that Hank had left at her apartment; she told me to throw it out when I was done wearing it. She joked about wanting to burn the shirt, but overtime made is impossible to find the time for her 'voodoo' ritual. When we got to work, Warrick asked me if I had a hot date . . . I obviously hadn't made it home all day. I think I just blushed or something.

Sara and I started going out to breakfast nearly every morning. It was the first real 'date' I had since Kristy was murdered; Sara said that she couldn't date anyone after Hank. She would visibly cringe if I ever told her that she was beautiful; I think that was the line he used to get women into bed. I guessed that Hank found Sara's soft spot; sometimes it was better than always hearing that you were smart. I learned quickly that I needed to be careful with my words; beautiful, sexy, smart, and rape were normally off limits. Each word had a negative connotation so strong that it could bring Sara to her knees.

It didn't take me long to figure out that sex was going to be a complicated situation. She had scars that were hidden by her clothes; one would never know that they were there. Sara was terrified of what her body looked like; she dressed carefully to make sure that the scars never showed. I asked her once; I found out exactly where Sara knew Grissom from. He had investigated her rape when he was a rookie. She didn't like to talk about it, but she said that she thought Grissom understood her. I guess that's why it hurt so much when Grissom reject her feelings; Sara thought that Grissom was rejecting more than the feelings . . . he was rejecting her.

It took a long time to work through Sara's issues, but I was glad that she let me come along for the ride. I didn't want this to be the end of our ride.

"Nick, the driver is going to be charged with a DUI and reckless endangerment with a motor vehicle," Brass said.

"How's he pleading?" I asked.

"The same way every other moron does. He's planning to plead not guilty," Brass replied.

"The brakes?" I asked. I wasn't at all surprised. I knew that criminal charges could bring even the sanest person into an alternative reality.

"Perfect working order. How's Sara doing?" Brass asked.

"Still sleeping," I replied.

"Can I get you some supper?" Brass asked. I wasn't sure what to say; I wasn't even sure if I was hungry. I think Greg offered me food a thousand times, but I don't think I ever accepted or declined. Those things didn't seem important right now.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Well, I'll pick you up something anyway," Brass replied, "Greg is going to take James and Jacqui back to their hotel. I think Linda said something about staying here for a little while. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Jim," I replied. I rarely saw this kind of kindness from Brass. He tried so hard to compartmentalize hid feelings so he didn't feel; they were discreetly hidden amongst the smart-ass comments and commentary. I understood why he did that; people become human if you begin to feel for them. That's what always got me into trouble; I was the emotional one, Sara was the stoic one, Catherine was the motherly one, Greg was the goofy one, Warrick was the aloof one, and Grissom was the schizoid one. The distinctions always seemed to hold up pretty well.

I was thankful that the room was silent again, but I wished that my mind would also be silent for just a few moments.

"Nicky," Grissom said. I was shocked that he was here; Catherine said that Grissom would probably barricade himself into the lab until the evidence told him Sara's story, but this case was a little more cut and dry than most. The answers were loud and clear; the drunk man in the semi hit Sara's Tahoe. That was going to be the easy part for Grissom; the aftermath always seemed to be a little more decimating.

"She's taking her damn time waking up; I don't know why I would expect anything different from Sara. She always liked to do things at her own pace," I replied. I hoped Sara heard that; she could be so damn stubborn sometimes. I wanted so badly to believe that this time Sara was just being stubborn. I thought maybe if I called her on it . . . she might just wake up so everything could be okay again.

"Nicky," Grissom said with a sigh as he sat down, "When did this all happen?"

He wanted to know when Sara no longer was his.

"Six months ago after that rape victim was gunned down in her driveway," I replied.

"You could have told me," Grissom replied.

"Sara asked me not to . . . she wanted us to prove that we could maintain a professional relationship," I replied. I twisted the gold band on my ring finger. We had maintained a professional relationship; we were good at pushing our feelings aside until we walked through the front door in the morning.

"Sara was probably right . . . I probably would have said the wrong things," Grissom replied, "Is she happy?"

"We are doing well. Marriage has been better than I ever imagined," I replied. I couldn't even begin to imagine how my words were hurting Grissom. Saying these things was too awkward.

"I'm glad. Nicky, I'm sorry I asked Sara to take the case," Grissom replied.

"Sara loves her job. There's nothing to apologize for. Greg said some saying in Norwegian that made sense, but I forget what it was . . . it was something about fate and chance. You should ask him. I'm sure Brass would appreciate a new witty comment from you," I replied. I was rambling; I wasn't mad, but the words sounded angry. I was just tired of waiting for Sara to wake up.

"I wish Greg didn't try so hard to emulate me," Grissom replied. I didn't want Greg to either; it was nice to have some comic relief in the lab. It was even better to have some of that out in the field; it broke the tension. I didn't want Greg to become hardened as the rest of us had.

"Greggo is growing up," I replied. I appreciated the mindless banter; it was nice to have a momentary distraction.

"That he is. You all have grown up," Grissom commented.

We had, but Grissom neglected that we all had begun to grow away from him.

We waited in silence. I could feel my heart race every time Sara's eyelashes would flutter. It would be soon. My wife would be returned to me soon.


	7. Sara's POV: Awakenings

Sara's POV:

My sleep was restless. The dreams were so real that I could feel the sensation of warmth on my skin and hear the words in my ears. I could feel the semi-trailer hit my SUV. The dream doesn't end there; it ends with Brass screaming at me to open my eyes, then everything fades to the darkest black I have ever seen. The dream keeps repeating, but each time the background noise is a little different. The background noise varies from Nick talking, he sounds a million miles away, to the haunting harmonies of jazz music that I have never heard before. I want to wake up, but I feel like a lead blanket is covering my eyes. I am not strong enough to life the blanket, so I sit replaying the never ending reel of my horrible dream on the back of my eyelids.

Occasionally, thoughts were interspersed with the horrible dreams. I wondered if Nick's steak was still marinating in the marinade I made this afternoon. After his mother, Linda, found out I was a vegetarian, she bought me a cookbook; it contained sections for vegetarians and meat-eaters. I had taken to trying to make Nick something of an animal persuasion, if I was going to make myself something with 'too many combinations of weird vegetables.' I was learning; I had even purchased meat at the supermarket. It was something I had never really done before. Nick always put the groceries away; he was careful to make sure that his animal products were in a different area in the freezer . . . far enough away from tofu crumbles and frozen vegetables. He was understanding of my desire not to take the life of any animal; Nick had even eaten tofu several times . . . never complaining. I was so lucky.

I wondered if the evidence was taken out of my SUV with care. I had bagged several brown paper bags of various treasures that the murderer had carelessly left with his victim. I wondered if Grissom was going to call in his 'lady friend' to reconstruct the face of the victim from the skull and bones I found. I wondered if Greg was going to be able to extract DNA from the molars. I wondered if the truck driver was okay.

My throat burned. It felt like it was on fire. My chest throbbed. I could hear something about a tube being out. I wasn't really sure what that meant. I could feel a variety of hands touching my body; some spots were more sensitive than others. I could feel something being ripped from my skin; the sensation was much like pulling off a Band-Aid that had been resident to your skin for several days. I could feel my rings on my left ring finger; I thought I had left those at home today. They were always on my nightstand. I put them on right when I got home from work. I wondered why I had been so careless today.

"Hey, you. You finally woke up," Nick said. I hadn't realized that my eyes were open. The scenery around me was severely blurry. I could barely make out anything; this was a welcome change from the dreams.

"You don't have to talk. Just rest," Nick instructed. I wanted to remind him that I was dreaming for what seemed like ages. I wanted to know where I was. I couldn't remember what happened after the car accident; I was hoping that I was in my own bed, but I knew my bed wasn't as uncomfortable as this one.

"Where am I?" I asked. Nick held my hand; his lips were warm against my cheek.

"Desert Palms. You needed to have an operation," Nick replied. The thought that my restless sleep was a coma had never crossed my mind. I didn't realize that I had an operation; I wasn't in any pain. My only complaint was that whatever was done to my throat hurt like hell.

"Oh. Am I okay?" I asked. It was an awkward question; Nick laughed at it. I knew that I wouldn't be talking if I wasn't okay, but it just seemed like the appropriate question to ask.

"You are down a spleen, but everything else is going to be okay. How's you right arm?" he asked. I tried to lift my right arm, but it felt like it was asleep. There was intense tingling, but the stupid thing didn't seem to want to cooperate.

"It's still sleeping. I don't think it got the message that everything else was waking up," I commented. I could hear Grissom laugh. I wasn't sure where he was, but I could hear him. I didn't know what to think about that besides my accident must have been pretty bad if Grissom was here.

"Just calm down. James is here," Nick said. It must have been really bad if my brother had stopped using license plates as a canvas and flown to Las Vegas to see me, "Linda and Jacqui are here too."

It must have been really, really bad.

"That bad?" I asked.

"I don't know. I didn't go out to the scene, but Brass said it was bad," Nick rambled.

"It was bad, Sara," Grissom clarified. Bad didn't really mean anything to me. I guess I just wanted to know how lucky I was.

"Oh. I remember seeing Brass. How's the truck driver?" I asked. I wasn't thinking emotional yet, so my reactions seemed blunted. It was like I was inquiring on a story I heard on the news or read in the newspaper. As my vision began to clear, I could see that it was bad. Nick's face said everything that his words didn't.

"In jail," Nick replied, "That's not important. Do you want me to call James?"

"Later. I'm really tired," I commented. Nick laughed; I knew I must have been 'sleeping' for hours, "What the hell is that thing?" I could see a huge lump under my hospital gown. The lump was just above my umbilicus.

"It's a drain. You needed to have a liver laceration stitched up. I guess there was still some drainage or something. The chest tube in on your left side," Nick replied. I looked at all the equipment amazed. I couldn't even feel these things; I was afraid to imagine the intensity of pain I would feel whenever the drugs wore off.

"Wow," I commented.

"Are you in pain?" Nick asked.

"No. I'm just . . . wow . . . did I have a tube in my throat? I remember feeling my throat burning," I replied.

"You had the full deal," Nick replied. He looked worried.

"I'm hungry," I commented. His face softened; I wondered if he thought I sounded as crazy as my brain told me I did.

"I'm supposed to be the one that says that," Nick replied. I tried to laugh, but my chest muscles were a little too tense.

"What did you eat?" I asked. The small talk was a comfort. It seemed to comfort both Nick and me.

"Brass is picking something up for me," Nick replied. He had to have been extremely worried if he had forgone food for any substantial amount of time.

"Does everyone know that we are married?" I asked. I could hear Nick snicker.

"Do you think I handled hearing about your car accident well?" Nick asked. It was a stupid question; there was absolutely no way he could hold his emotions in. I'm glad that he couldn't; I probably would have never figured out that he saw me as something more than a friend if he hid his feelings like I did. They knew; the entire lab knew that Nick and I were married.

"Oh. Did the evidence make it back to the lab okay?" I asked. I was afraid to find out the repercussions of marrying a coworker. I was terrified of having to be transferred or having to work a shift opposite of Nick.

"Sara, it isn't important," Grissom replied. He could have said something about Nick and me; I wanted him to acknowledge that I no longer needed him the way that I needed Nick.

"Did Greg get to work on the bones? We worked on facial reconstruction last week. It would be a good chance for him to learn," I replied. The situation still seemed so surreal. I didn't feel hurt; I only felt tired and a little disoriented.

"Greg is sleeping in the family room," Nick commented.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"About eight in the evening," Nick replied.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go to work?" I asked. It was another stupid question, but it for some reason still seemed like a very valid question.

"I'm going to take some time off to be with you . . . unless you are kicking me out of your room already," Nick replied. He was trying so hard to smile; it was what looked like a pained smile. I wished that Grissom would leave so Nick could get out whatever it was that he needed to. I knew Nick was trying to stay positive for me; he was always the optimist . . . I was always the pessimist.

"I want you here. I can't think of anyone who I want here more," I replied. I'm glad that I couldn't see the look on Grissom's face. It must have been one hell of a day for him; surprise Sara married Nicky . . . surprise she's on an operating room table and you have no right to hold her hand. I cursed myself for thinking that way; my intentions were not to hurt Grissom, but some days it seemed like an added bonus for all the times he hurt me.

"Okay, you've talked me into it . . . I'll stay," Nick replied. He still had that pained smile on his face; I never thought that I had been close to death. I must have been knocking at heaven's gates. He must have been dying inside while he was waiting for me to wake up.

"I'm going to sleep. I love you," I whispered as my eyes grew heavy again.

"I love you, too," Nick replied as he brushed the hair off my face. I hoped that my dreams would be less torturous than the previous ones.


End file.
